


Little Thursday Angel

by UnfortunatelyGeek



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Chuck Shurley is Not God, Gen, Godstiel - Freeform, No Beta read we die like men, The Apocalypse, search for god
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:08:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24437944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnfortunatelyGeek/pseuds/UnfortunatelyGeek
Summary: Who is Castiel, really?Or in which, Zachariah overlooks an important aspect of his newest 'puppet', Jimmy Novak is given another chance, Anna gains a new ally, Michael is missing just one last piece to the puzzle, Gabriel is saved, Bobby Singer outsmarts everyone, Dean Winchester is horrified and Sam Winchester is just very, very confused.
Relationships: Castiel (Supernatural) & Everyone, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Gabriel & God & Lucifer & Michael (Supernatural), Gabriel & God (Supernatural), Lucifer & Michael (Supernatural), No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1: Arrogance and Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zachariah is venerated amongst his angelic Brothers and Sisters.   
> The Apocalypse promises him even more power.   
> Now, he just has to find himself the Right Angel to pull Dean Winchester out of Hell. Pliant. Obedient. Gullible  
> Luckily for Zachariah, Castiel fits all these requirements.
> 
> James Novak knows he is going to die.  
> Castiel decides he deserves another chance.

_**ZACHARIAH** _

_"It was pride that changed Angels into Devils. " - Saint Augustine. _  
__

____

__

In front of him stood Jophiel, his boar-head bowed in a form of shame, parrot head chattering aimlessly and horse head looking afraid for its life. He had been babbling for a few cycles now, and frankly, it didn't seem like he was going to stop anytime soon.

__

Zachariah was tempted to reach forward and pluck off the second set of white wings the angel possessed.

__

"What do you mean you could find only one candidate?" he thundered, flaring his wings in a show of dominance. They arched behind him mightily, catching the orange light until they glowed white.

__

The Word was simple. It was written, sung for everyday of his entire existence more like, by the Choirs of Heaven, whose powerful chords thrummed within the very fabric of his being. 

__

_'Tis in Hell that the Righteous Man shall break, and with him, shall break the very first lock on the Serpent's Cage.'_

__

And oh, how wonderfully that plan had gone. Zachariah had played an instrumental role in spinning and weaving this plan for millennia, and the little Winchesters had played along happily, satiated by the illusion of 'Free Will' they were blinded by, playing right into Hell's schemes.

__

(Honestly, though. If Daddy Winchester had just taken the knife in Hell like the faithful man he had been prophesied to be, Zachariah would have been saved a lot of drama. He had had to make sure that that Jake guy (one of Azazel's demon spawn) didn't actually die by the youngest Winchester's hand and actually convinve him to kill the kid after. Waiting for something so tantalizingly close was hard, even for a being as old as him. )

__

Anyways. The Righteous Man's son, Dean Winchester, who by virtue of relation was also a Righteous Man (unlike his Abomination of a brother, tainted with demon blood), broke successfully after 30 long Hell years. 

__

It had been extremely hard to keep Michael off his back. For the Flood, Michael was not scary or threatening. He hadn't been seen, not since the news of the Boy King's birth had reached him. He had retreated into himself, thirsty flames going subdued, disappearing  
into a corner of the Heavens that only he and Raphael could enter. The only proof that he was still in Heaven was his blazing Grace, churning and burning like a thousands Suns in Heavens Skies.

__

But, even though he was no longer as wrathful as he used to be, Michael was shrewd. He had been curious about Zachariah putting off the siege for such a long time. Raphael had come to Zachariah to question him on Michael's behalf. Luckily for Zachariah, Anael had chosen about that time to fall, and it had been her garrison who was in charge of laying the siege. Zachariah had seized the opportunity- he made a huge show of how traitorous Anael was, and how she was most likely working with the Serpent. Then, he had ordered one of his own lackeys to sort through the garrison, searching for the youngest, most inexperienced, yet loyal soldier he could find to lead it.

__

Why inexperienced, you ask?

__

Well, this angel would need to be gullible. It would have to believe every one of Zachariah's ploys, and be loyal enough to Heaven so as to not question his orders. 

__

But, just Zachariah''s luck, Jophiel turned out to be one of the most incompetent buffoons the mid-level management had to offer. Countless angels to choose from, and the angel had the gal to turn up with only one?!

__

Jophiel cowered. "Saint Zachariah, this angel fits your description unlike no other. He is a skilled soldier, a brilliant rune-maker, and an even better flier. He is ingenious yet trusting, clever yet gullible. He believes in everything Heaven says, and he is one of the few of us who actually believes it is our Father who gives these orders. "

__

Zachariah paused, millions of eyes blinking in pleasant surprise. "Oh?" he smiled, or rather, did the angel equivalent of a smile. It involved his facial muscles twisting and writhing until they formed a sight quite gruesome, but it wasn't Zachariah's fault that he didn't look good while smiling now, was it? 

__

"Do those even exist?" He asked Jophiel.

__

Jophiel bowed his head, "We didn't even think we would come across an angel who thought so anymore. "

__

Zachariah's mood was significantly uplifted, The room brightened, orange fading to bright yellow, soft piano music rising to a crescendo. As if sensing the upliftment of his spirits, the Choirs began to chirp gleefully, sending out loud chords of joy and tranquility. 

__

"Send him in."

__

The doors opened and a figure slinked in.

__

The first thing that struck Zachariah was how tiny this creature was. It was one-twentieth Jophiel's size, and about one-hundredth Zachariah's. It could barely be any bigger than the Earthen Chrysler building, at most. Even lowly Garrison soldiers were not meant to be that small. The angel had glossy black wings that glimmered with iridescence, shifting and fading brightness that rippled through the feathers. A smooth zebra's head tilted it's chin up in a show of form. The Albino peacock face followed it's lead, leaving behind shimmers of grace as it tossed its head back, ice crystals falling onto the marble tiled floor. Countless blue eyes held his gaze, endless, powerful, and blue, blue, oh so blue-

__

Zachariah's breath caught in his throat.

__

The last time he had seen such beauty, it had been the Morningstar, whose soft opalescent wings had literally shimmered in and out of existence, ethereally beautiful. Of course, even this angel's wings were nothing like his, but they were a close second.

__

This was the soldier who believed God still gave the commands? 

__

The angel reached back and drew a blade, smooth and deadly, with the poise of a warrior. The blade, upon catching the ballroom's light, shone with intricate runes and sigils, all marked for victory in battle, safety, protection and loyalty of the bearer. Even at such a distance, Zachariah could see the ingenuity of the runes, quite unlike the standard issue.

__

Obviously, the young angel had worked on it meticulously.

__

"My Lord, " Jophiel's True Voice rose in amplitude, no doubt echoing through the collective Grace of the Host, "May I present His Shield, Castiel. "

__

Castiel slammed his blade into the marble floor, taking care to not crack it's intricate tiling. Both heads bowed and wings pulled downward together in a show of respect and gratitude, the angel finally spoke, "Thank you for having me, Saint Zachariah. "

__

Zachariah paused, speechless. How was Jophiel not affected by Castiel's beauty? Surely he could see-

__

He cleared his throat. "Enough formality, Castiel. I would like to thank you for accepting the offer. Being the Leader of a Garrison is no small thing- and neither is leading a siege into Hell. You are aware of the specifics, I presume?"

__

"Yes, my Lord. "

__

Zachariah gave him his grotesque smile. "Wonderful! Have you appointed an angel to pull Dean Winchester out of Hell? "

__

"Yes, my Lord, " Castiel's voice thrummed. "Samandriel is the youngest in our garrison, but he is also extremely fast. We intend on taking him all the way to Dean Winchester, after which we will clear his path so that he can quickly raise him. I will personally oversee the remaking of Dean Winchester's body and soul. "

__

"Yes, yes, good, very good! " Zachariah was glad. Castiel had thought it all out. "Who will be breathing life into him? Do you wish to have that honour? "

__

Breathing life into a body, while an easy process, was the greatest honour an angel could receive. It would be obvious for Castiel to take that honour, but from what he could see-

__

For the first time, Castiel fumbled. "I'm sorry, My Lord. As the day of the Rising is a Saturday, I have asked Barachiel to breathe life into him. I believed it to be symbolic, I hope I haven't overstepped. 

__

There it was. Blind love for his brethren and heaven. A knack for symbolism. Traits Michael would be proud of.

__

Traits Zachariah could exploit with ease.

__

Zachariah waved his wing flippantly. "You haven't overstepped, soldier. But I don't want Barachiel to breathe life into Dean Winchester, I want you to do it. "

__

Both Jophiel and Castiel blinked in unison. One couldn't miss it- when a million eyes blinked together, you noticed, even if you were countless stories tall. 

__

This was Zachariah's idea of a test- if the angel questioned it, the angel was a liability. Too curious, obviously hadn't visited Naomi enough. And Zachariah honestly didn't want to waste time having Naomi go through all the motions. 

__

Castiel didn't disappoint. "It would be an honour, Saint Zachariah. Thank you. "

__

Zachariah smiled- a truly gruesome thing.

__

"Rise and shine, soldier. A Righteous Man needs saving. "

__

Castiel bowed and swept out of the room.

__

Neither Jophiel nor Zachariah noticed the peacock's tiny smile as he left the ballroom.

__

*

__

_**JAMES NOVAK** _

__

_"Sweet mercy is Nobility's true badge. "- William Shakespeare_

__

__

The second he stepped out of the door and faced the sky, Jimmy knew that something was amiss.

__

Yes, Castiel had warned him that he would be bright. Too bright, even, if what the other angel (the one who had taken Jimmy's neighbour Sarah as a vessel) had told him held up. She had told him that no matter how bright Castiel seemed, he should not worry or panic. It would all be over soon, and Jimmy would be carrying out the work of the Lord.

__

But the sky, at first glance, was still the inky blue he was greeted with every night.

__

Jimmy paused. Castiel was never tardy. 

__

Suddenly, a huge something pressed down on him, knocking the breath out of his lungs. The earth slipped out from underneath Jimmy, but somehow, he never fell to the ground. A pair of warm arms held him upright.

__

Jimmy was already too terrified to even glance at his saviour. The shadow was getting bigger and bigger, pressing down on him with every passing second, and so, he focused his eyes on the sky.

__

"Don't be afraid, my child, "a soft, deep voice echoed in his eardrums, warm sweet-smelling breath fanning his ear. "I would never hurt you. "

__

Jimmy turned to catch a glance of his saviour-

__

Only to stare at his own face.

__

He almost screamed.

__

Before he could scream, however, a warm, cozy feeling settled all over him. He was encircled tightly in a stranger's arms, a stranger who looked just like him, but somehow, Jimmy couldn't bring himself to be afraid. The stranger looked down at him with an expression he had only ever seen once before- in a photograph, when he had lifted Claire in his arms for the first time. 

__

Home.

__

He felt at home.

__

No longer could he find it in himself to care about the pain in his lower abdomen, the worry of the cancer spreading through him like wildfire, fret over Claire's parent-teacher conference, that job promotion in work, or the fight he had had with Amelia the previous day that had torn him to pieces. In this strangers arms, he felt safe, warm, contented-

__

Happy.

__

"You are not Castiel, " he heard himself speak. Huh. That made sense. Castiel had never felt safe. The Castiel that spoke to him promised adventure and righteousness and justice. The angel was a soldier through and through, all heavenly glory and divine justice condensed into a multidimensional celestial. Castiel had a presence, a terrifying one.

__

The stranger looked amused, as if he were trying to stop himself from laughing. His eyes (too bright blue, the only difference between Jimmy and him) twinkled gleefully. "Oh, " the stranger gave him an indulgent yet ominous smirk, "But I am Castiel. It's just that Castiel isn't who everyone thinks he is. "

__

Realising that he would never get a straight answer, Jimmy said, "What does Castiel even mean? I have heard of Cassiel, but never Castiel. "

__

This time, the stranger gave up any pretense of not laughing. He threw his head back and guffawed.

__

Jimmy was in awe of the sound. 

__

He was pretty sure no one else heard it the way he did. It sizzled through his skin, warm and poignant, reverberating through the tendons and muscles and resonating in his bones. His body sang at the sound- eardrums crying in disbelieving joy, shoulders sagging in warmth and smiles.

__

"Oh Jimmy, " the stranger said, "You are more perceptive than the Heavenly Host and Hell combined!

__

At this approval, Jimmy found himself swelling with pride.

__

When was the last time someone had been proud of him?

__

The stranger cut himself off mid-laugh, eyes turning serious and sad. He gazed down at Jimmy with a broken gaze, looking all the millennia old being he probably was.

__

The stranger hoisted him up to his feet, clutching his shoulders tightly. Belatedly, Jimmy realised that the stranger was even dressed like him, complete with the ill-fitting tan trench coat.

__

In another life, Jimmy would have flamed with embarrassment. The coat had been a gift from Amelia, but the delivery people had made a mistake, sending him an oversized tan overcoat instead of the black one Amelia had ordered. By the time they had realised, the exchange period had lapsed, leaving Jimmy with a ridiculously ugly trenchcoat and an extremely apologetic wife. Of course, Jimmy forgave her, but he still made it a point to wear it everytime they went to the park as a family, or to any social gatherings.

__

Amelia would turn a lovely shade of red every single time.

__

She would always look beautiful to him. 

__

The stranger was still gazing at him with those too-bright too-old eyes, but the sombre look from before had disappeared, replaced by a slightly melancholy smile.

__

Jimmy wondered whether the stranger could read minds.

__

"I can, " spoke the celestial. "If you change your mind about being my vessel, I am absolutely certain I will be able to find myself a replacement. "

__

Jimmy paused. "Why can't you use the one you're already in?"  
The stranger glanced down at himself, touching the coat lapels gingerly. "That's the problem, " he said, "If they see me like this, they'll know I'm not only _Castiel_. I am unable to keep up the illusion and hide myself too much now. My current line of work requires me to be present at many places at one go, and I'm afraid I am unable to cloak myself very well at present. "

__

"So you're saying you're not just here?"

__

"Yes, " the lack of movement on Castiel's side was disconcerting. "I am also presently at a war funeral. I have lost 7 siblings on the battlefield, trying to save the seals. Most of my attention is there. I hope I am not offending you. "

__

Jimmy understood the pain of losing someone. Even though Castiel was not, in fact, Castiel, he obviously cared for these people.

__

Who was Jimmy, then? To keep him from that?

__

"You aren't. It's cool with me. "

__

Instantly, the air warmed. The temperatures rose drastically, and already, Jimmy could feel tiny rivulets of sweat race down his back.

__

The stranger's head was cocked to the side in a birdlike fashion, eyebrows furrowed and eyes looking like they were trying to make out what Jimmy had said. 

__

"I hope you are comfortable. I believed that 80 degrees Fahrenheit was warm by human standards, but it would appear that I was mistaken. "

__

So _Castiel_ had just upped the temperature by 10 degrees?!

__

"Dude, " Jimmy choked out, flailing for words. "That's so not what I meant. I meant that I was fine with you multitasking, not that I was feeling cold or something. "

__

Castiel looked terribly sheepish. When JImmy looked like that, he felt as if he wanted to melt into a puddle of Jimmy goo.

__

He hoped Castiel wasn't feeling like that. He was pretty sure the guy would actually succeed.

__

The temperatures returned to normal, if not a bit colder.

__

"I- " Castiel paused, as if considering whether or not he should say something. "I apologize. It has been a long time since I have been to Earth, and I am woefully unaware of any of the modern colloquialisms. I intend on learning though, if it is any consolation. "

__

Jimmy nodded. There was a short pause, and then- 

__

"But why me?" Jimmy asked, "What makes me so special?"

__

Castiel smiled brightly. "I am glad you asked."

__

Then, he sat down on the concrete, and began to tell a story. 

__

"Many centuries ago, when I roamed the earth, I happened upon a family in Germany. They were a happy family, even though all of them suffered from an incurable disease that ensured that none of their clan lived beyond 30 years. They were extremely pleasant on the eye, very aeesthetically pleasing. One of my best- " Castiel cut himself off abruptly. Trying and failing to seem nonchalant, he plowed on. 

__

"Because of this disease, the family had to mve through Germany quite often, to continue the family name. So much so, in fact, that permanently to their names was added the title 'The Newcomer'. You could say that that was selfish of them, but they ensured that the people they married was almsot as doomed as they were too. 

__

"After observing them for a few days, I decided that such pleasant people should be blessed by the Lord they believed in so heartily.

__

"This family was the Novak family, " Castiel gave him a meaningful glance. "Your family. It allows me to obtain your family as vessels, to carry out heaven's work. "

__

Jimmy didn't know how to respond. 

__

"What are we waiting for, then?" he asked, "I have already given you my consent. Why haen't you possessed me yet?"

__

Castiel turned to the footpath, where a small tangle of wildflowers grew. He breezed his fingertips over them, and JImmy watched in wonder as the flowers bloomed brighter and bounced with a fiercer vibrancy. 

__

"Your cancer, " Castiel said somberly, "You have only a year left to live, yes?"

__

Jimmy looked down at the street, eyes watering. He did not respond.

__

Castiel did not seem to mind.

__

They stood there for a while, two carbon copies bathed in silver moonlight, both so eerily same but worlds apart.

__

Finally, Jimmy found it in himself to speak. "Do you- "he paused, his voice catching in his throat, "Do you think that it is wrong of me to keep the cancer from Amelia? "

__

"Why do you keep it from her?" Castiel inquired. There was no condescension, no judgement in his tone. It was plain and pure curiosity, and Jimmy had no issues in answering such an innocent question. 

__

"Amelia is in charge of the money, " Jimmy laughed dryly, "Even though I'm the tax accountant. If I tell her I have cancer, she'll insist on getting chemotherapy done. We- " Jimmy looked down, cheeks turning red as he said, "We don't have that kind of money. Claire will have to drop out if I go for Chemo. "

__

"I- " he choked a bit, "I thought that it would be better if I just disappeared from their lives. I'd rather Claire looked back and hated Jimmy Novak rather than blame herself for his death. "

__

Jimmy buried his face in his hands, unable to speak any further.

__

Suddenly, something warm enveloped him. He felt calm and safe, cared for and wanted, loved and cherished, all at the same time. It buffetted him, smothered him in a blanket-like warmth, allowing him to sob into it. 

__

"Oh, my sweet child, " whispered a voice. It sounded like Castiel but didn't sound like him, all at the same time. It was ancient and primordial, eldritch syllables churning and crashing against each other like turbulent waves and cymbals, a roll to the vowels he had never heard before.

__

The last thing he heard before he fell into the darkness was- "Rest, James Novak. No harm will come to your wife and daughter. Lay your weary head to rest, my child. "

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S.- I realized that I had had made a teeny-tiny error in calling Castiel the Angel of Thursday. Sorry!


	2. Chapter 2: Ignorance and Intricacies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anael has always loved Castiel, the little seraph who looked too old for his age and whose beauty was exalted by the Choirs of Heaven.  
> When he comes to her with a rather simple proposition, she just cannot say no.  
> If she had just read a bit deeper, she may have realized just how much the scales had tipped. 
> 
> Michael has been waiting for this moment for countless millennia. Centuries upon centuries of hard work, all of it culminating up to a final hurrah, probably even his final stand, the one that would bring Paradise to his Brothers and Sisters.  
> But something is off.  
> And Michael knows it.

_**ANNA** ___

____"Brother and sister, together as Friends, ready to face, whatever life sends. " - Robert Brault._ _ _ _

__

__Anna awoke in a field of tulips._ _

__She sighed without opening her eyes, focusing on the gentle warmth of the bronzed splendour above her, trying to soak her newly found grace in its endless power. The soft green stalks tickled her face as a wind rustled by, but Anna did not mind at all. A single feather-soft petal drifted onto the sensitive skin of her vessel's lips. It smelled not of flowers, but rather of thunderstorms and ozone, cackling energy and petrichor, and an undertone of..... was that honey?_ _

__Castiel. It smelled of Castiel._ _

__She sighed once more, sitting up, keeping her eyes closed to delay the inevitable. Castiel, for his part, said nothing, but now as she extended her senses, she could feel him standing a few metres away in his vessel._ _

__She opened her eyes._ _

__He stood in front of her, facing the sun. The bronze glory that was Heaven's Prince formed a burning halo around the vessel's dark hair, tan trench coat billowing in the breeze like a majestic robe. His aura crackled with sheer power and thunder, bright blue and unrelenting- fit for a Garrison Commander. His visit to Hell had not diminished his True Form's beauty, although there was a jagged white scar along the zebra's neck, and what looked distinctly like a handprint on his left wing. His True Form still shone with a brilliance and purity unlike no other._ _

__When he turned, she almost gasped._ _

__The Vessel he had chosen was just as beautiful as his True Form was, by human standards. But that wasn't what shocked Anna._ _

__It was the soul that she could see underneath it._ _

__Anna fumbled, blinking rapidly. "Brother- what-?"_ _

__Castiel smiled. "Oh no. I'm not Cas, " he spoke with a rather high-pitched voice, much unlike the gravelly tone her brother had spoken with when he had tried to retrieve her with Uriel. "Hi! I'm his vessel, Jimmy. Jimmy Novak. "_ _

__The man extended his hand. Wordlessly, Anna shook it._ _

__"I do not understand-"_ _

__Castiel, no, _Jimmy_ (what on earth?!) smiled at her knowingly. "Cas is just a bit tired. He's got to keep us hidden, and throwing Uriel off your scent was not easy. He's resting. He'll be up in a few minutes. "_ _

__Anna nodded and lay back on the mud, trying to clear her restless grace. It itched and prodded, aching to reach forward and touch Castiel's grace, to feel his warmth and brilliance, to have his thunder reverberate through her own. It was the angelic form of a hug, and Anna, well, Anna was touch-starved._ _

__Jimmy, however, had other plans. He glanced back at the sun. "Is this how the Sun looks like in Heaven?"_ _

__Anna let out a soft laugh at his ignorance, but she did not taunt him over his lack of knowledge. How was he to know?_ _

__"No, young child, " she said, gazing at it dreamily, "That is Michael, Heaven's Prince. He WHo Is Like God. The Flood. He has many names. "_ _

__Jimmy did a double-take. " _That_ is Michael?!" he squeaked, sounding very small and very scared. _ _

__Anna laughed and nodded. "He is a bit dim today. Usually, his brilliance takes up all of Heaven's sky. I think he's at the Throne Room. It dims his Grace. "_ _

__Jimmy's eyebrows rose disbelievingly. "Woah. Okay. Cool. "_ _

__Anna laughed once more. Had she still been human, she would have tried to flirt with the man._ _

__That, of course, would be before she noticed the wedding ring on his finger._ _

__She opened her mouth to ask him about him, when suddenly, he went rigid. He gave her a quick grin and mouthed, _"He's here."_ HIs eyes flashed from grey to brilliant blue, and the wing silhouettes behind him flashed darker. The winds picked up._ _

__Castiel was back._ _

__He turned to her robotically, all the easy grace of Jimmy's movements gone. His lips were drawn in a thin pink line, but he managed a smile. "Sister. It is good to see you. "_ _

__"I hope I can say likewise, Castiel, " she said, raising her guard. "Have you come to kill me?"_ _

__Castiel's smile vanished, replaced by a sad frown. "No, sister, " he spoke after a moment pause, which had sent shivers through Anael's grace. "I do not wish to harm you. "_ _

__He walked over to her and sat on a clear patch of grass, bringing his knees to his chest and nestling his chin on top of them. In that moment, he looked so miraculously human, Anna almost thought Jimmy was back, but the ethereal blue of his eyes remained the same._ _

__"You interact with your vessel's soul, " she said, gazing at Michael as she did so, "Why so?"_ _

__Castiel smiled, a big, real one, flashing Jimmy's pearly white teeth as he did so. "Jimmy is a good man. He teaches me things about Earth I don't know, I make sure he is as comfortable as possible. I make sure to check on his wife and child too. We have established a rather helpful symbiotic relationship, I daresay, a friendly comradery too. "_ _

__Anna smirked. "I am glad you like your vessel, brother. "_ _

__Castiel nodded._ _

__And suddenly, she felt his grace extend towards her._ _

__She responded immediately. His small form barreled into her larger one, horse head nuzzling into the lioness' soft fur. Their vessels sat side by side, shoulders touching. His Grace coiled around her own, filling her with warmth and joy. He still felt the same, of tangible lightning and sparks of blue flame, soft as silk yet resilient as elastic. It was so familiar, so loving, that Anna felt her vessel let out a soft sob._ _

__They stayed like that for a while._ _

__Castiel pulled back. He reached out with his vessel and held her shoulders, bright blue eyes gazing into her own with palpable intensity._ _

__"Sister, " he began, "I have a proposition for you. "_ _

__Anna furrowed her vessel's eyebrows. "I'm listening. "_ _

__"I- " Castiel hesitated, " I can't keep an eye at the Winchesters all the time. I've got some leads on the Seals, but I cannot follow them and report to Heaven. I suspect that we have traitors in our midst. "_ _

__"You want me to keep an eye on the Winchesters?" Anna couldn't help but grin a little. Dean's soul was the loveliest thing she'd laid eyes on, and she wouldn't mind catching more glimpses of it._ _

__"Yes, but- " Of course he had conditions. "You would have to do it as me. "_ _

__Anna furrowed her eyebrows. "What does that mean? "_ _

__"My plan.... It needs the Winchesters to trust me implicitly. I will lend you one of my best illusions. Are you willing, sister?"_ _

__Anael smiled. She didn't really mind. "Of course."_ _

__But what she didn't think was how on earth _Castiel_ , a lowly seraph, would keep up an _illusion_ , of all things._ _

__*  
_**MICHAEL** _____

_  
_  
_  
__  
__"The Devil is in the Details, but occasionally, Salvation is too. "_ _  
_  
_  
_  


____Something was not right, and Michael would not rest until he figured out what._ _ _ _

____The Word was intricate, detailed, as everything God created was. It had an endless number of interpretations, countless outcomes, results, and inferences, an array of players who may or may not come in action, and of course, a million ways for it all to go wrong._ _ _ _

____Aware of this, Michael had personally ensured that all of the machinations of the Apocalypse would go _according to The Plan_. He had spent centuries decoding his Father's Word, trying to ensure that he did not miss anything for the Apocalypse to go smoothly._ _ _ _

____It was, after all, his final chance to be _done with it all_._ _ _ _

____Michael sighed, suspending himself in the vacuum of space, gazing up at one of the constellations he had drawn himself. It was of a group of winged children, four in number, playing around what looked like a large ball, gleeful smiles on their faces. It was so delicately intricate, full of bright and dim stars of varying hues beyond human perception, that no human would ever think of the whole thing as a constellation._ _ _ _

____He reached out with one of a thousand hands, gently caressing the cheek of the angel closest to him, whose wings he had drawn in stars of every colour he could find. For a moment, he could imagine the angel smiling right back at him, before resuming its games with its brothers._ _ _ _

____Michael blinked away celestial teardrops of pure light._ _ _ _

____He was just so _tired_. He just wanted it all to be _over_. _ _ _ _

_____And it would be,_ spoke a part of him. _If you ensure that the Apocalypse goes exactly the way it is supposed to, of course it would be.__ _ _ _

____Then he'd have all of eternity to apologize to Lucifer. To make him see just how much he loved him, and how much he hated pushing him into the Cage._ _ _ _

____Yes. The Apocalypse was Michael's only hope._ _ _ _

____And therein lay the problem._ _ _ _

____Till now, everything had gone perfectly to plan. From Azazel's convenient escape from the fiery pits of Hell, to Mary Winchester and Jessica Moore's unfortunate yet unavoidable deaths. From getting Sam Winchester addicted to Demon Blood, to having the Righteous Man break the seal in Hell. (Of course, he hadn't expected _Dean_ to be the prophesied one, but all's well that ends well. )_ _ _ _

____But Michael was running out of time. His True Vessel was still withholding consent._ _ _ _

____Worst of all, Gabriel had not heralded the Apocalypse yet._ _ _ _

____Michael was no fool. He knew that Gabriel wanted no part in a battle which would ensure his favourite planet's destruction and the demise of one, if not both, of his first brothers._ _ _ _

____But if their Father had given the authority for the Apocalypse as he had stated in the Plan, Gabriel would have no other choice but to come out and actually give the call for the Apocalypse._ _ _ _

_____Then why had he not blown his horn yet?!_ _ _ _ _

____Frustrated, Michael swirled in the air in a graceful motion, aiming a tempest of pure grace at the nearest planet, obliterating it from existence._ _ _ _

____He'd repair it if he survived the Apocalypse._ _ _ _

____Then there was Castiel. While Gabriel was, well, Gabriel, an angel of that seraph's rank had virtually no free will of any sort. Even when angels ripped out their graces and fell from Heaven, they were actively plagued by nightmares of repercussions, and they mostly did it because they had seen visions of the future due to some oracular powers they possessed._ _ _ _

____None of them were able to remain angels _and_ actively rebel against Heaven. The second the seed of doubt was planted in a young angel's mind, it would be compelled to rip out its grace and fall to Earth._ _ _ _

____And even though his grace was fading rather drastically, Castiel was actually doing a rather good job of rebelling and keeping his powers intact for most part._ _ _ _

____And there was the issue of the resurrections. Raphael has sworn by his very Grace that he had smote the seraph when it had been at the prophet's dwelling. No angel could survive an _archangel's_ smiting._ _ _ _

____So what was so special about Castiel?_ _ _ _


	3. Chapter 3: Salvation and Realisation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel is given a second chance. 
> 
> Bobby is suspicious.

_**GABRIEL**_. 

_"I am not the Messenger. I am the Message. "_. 

  
For the first time in countless millennia, Gabriel felt pain. 

It started as a twinge. A kind-of momentary, out-of-body, almost astral experience, during which he couldn't help but think, _"Oh would you look at that! I've been impaled. "_. 

Then it crashed on him like a tidal wave. 

It erupted in his stomach like a roaring inferno of holy-oil fueled fire, hungrily eating through him. He couldn't see the tear in his True Form, but he could feel it. He could see his Golden Grace, his very being , leaking out into the fourth dimension. He let out a screech, high-pitched and frantic, one that would echo through the Seraphic Choir, echo through the Heavens, through space and through the other dimensions- praying, _begging_ for someone to please come, _please save me_ , he couldn't die, not like, not by the hands of his brother, _not-_

He looked up at the charred countenance of the being he had once called brother, vaguely wondering whether Lucifer could see the betrayal he felt in his eyes. He tried to keep his face stern, but it crumpled instantly, leaving behind only shocked betrayal and tears of pain. Lucifer's soulless eyes gazed back at him unrepentantly, once beautiful opalescent wings now dreadful shadows of ominous rage. 

He had once loved him. _He had once cared for him._

Lucifer leaned in closer. His icy breath tickled Gabriel's ear. "Remember baby brother, I was the one who taught you all your little tricks. " 

Gabriel wanted to scream, _I HOPE MICHAEL RIPS YOUR WINGS TO SHREDS!_

His voice, of course, failed him, like most things in Gabriel's life did. 

Lucifer gave him an almighty shove, wrenching the blade out of him. The inferno-like pain vanished, leaving behind the cold certainty of nothingness and oblivion. Gabriel was now beyond caring- he was dead already. 

He shut his Vessel's eyes. Richard deserved much more than what Gabriel had given him, and it was only fair that Gabriel honoured him in any possible way he could before he was ripped into oblivion by the explosion that would follow Gabriel's death. 

Oh Father. He hoped he did not wipe out the entire US of A with his death. 

Beside him, his wings yowled in pain at a frequency of their own, burning like they were supposed to, in the event of his death. 

They would leave behind chars on the floor, forever suspended in the dimension they were in, an eternal hell. 

He felt himself slip out of the Land of the Living. 

Everything felt different now. 

Cold. 

_His Father had shaped him with the warmth of a thousand suns, and with the light of the brightest stars. He was a being of energy and quintessence, not its absence._

Bitter. 

_He was a being of love and hope. Bitterness did not become him._

Dark. 

_His Father was a being of pure Light. He had never known true Darkness, not since the War with Her, but even then, he had had his brothers by his side. Michael, He Who Is Like God, whose Righteous Rage had burned all the cold away. Lucifer, The Morningstar, whose brilliant ight had ignited even the darkest depths of Her Being, and Raphael, The Healer, who stood between Michael and Lucifer like a steadfast fulcrum, a source of everlasting comfort, their backbone, their endurance. Now, Gabriel was alone. The Darkness pressed against him, cold and unforgiving, as if it wanted to choke him, not let him breathe, **ohmygod-**_

He was nothing.  


And then, suddenly, he was something. 

Warmth. Pure and luscious, calm and serene, so loving, kind and gentle. Righteousness and Serenity. Brightness and Endurance. 

Power trickled into him like rivulets of cold water trickling down sore muscles after a long day of constant labour. A breeze came by and caressed his Vessel's hair, kissing away all the scratches on his True Being, formed from centuries of disuse and neglect. Feelings of utter calm and pure love eased him slowly into consciousness and he sighed, basking in the relief of finally feeling _complete_. Tendrils of Life drifted through his wings, revitalizing burnt joints and rebreathing life into each feather. They stretched out towards the source of warmth, aching, calling out for the warmth- 

_"Father!"_

*  
_**BOBBY SINGER**_

 _"Trust your instincts. That's where true wisdom lies. "_

Bobby fiddled with the Rings of the Horsemen, running his fingers over the intricate carvings absentmindedly. 

He sat at his desk, waiting for Sam and Dean to finish their 'chick-flick moment'. Castiel sat close, gazing intently at the label on a box of cereal. The young seraph looked as if he was on the brink of bone-dead exhaustion, but he was too stubborn to fall asleep before the Winchesters did. They sat in comfortable silence, allowing Bobby to think about certain suspicions he had.

In every free moment he had had since Dean called him to tell him that Sam had accidentally gone and started the _freaking Apocalypse_ of all things, Bobby had decided to do as much research on the topic as possible. It had been hard, daunting even, to go through every interpretation of the Biblical Apocalypse, but it had borne fruits, even though Bobby knew nothing about what to do with them.

There were six things, though, that every interpretation was extremely clear about.

Lucifer would be freed from the Cage when the 66 Seals of the Apocalypse were broken. Certain Seals had to be broken by humans. Bobby supposed those were the first and the last seals. 

Once he rose, Lucifer would unleash the Antichrist on Earth. The Antichrist would then decimate the populace with his demonic wrath, and Earth would begin to burn. 

Upon receiving the Call from his Father, Gabriel the Messenger was to descend in a fury of thunderstorms and lightning. IN his arms he would hold his Horn, with which he would Herald the Apocalypse.

Once Gabriel gave the call, Michael, Prince of Heaven, and his army of Angels would descend, and he would fight Lucifer in an almighty face-off with a sword of pure fire (The Michael Sword). 

Should Michael emerge victorious, Earth would be turned into Paradise, where the Angels and the few remaining humans would spend the rest of their days in eternal bliss.

Were Lucifer to win, however, the Earth would go up in flames. 

All of this was well and good, they were trying to make sure all of it never happened, but there were two things that didn't fit in.

One, the _Antichrist_ was lounging in a private escape in a secluded part of coastal Australia, playing with kangaroos and sipping coconut water while enjoying his life. The boy had a phone on him, and he had called a little while ago. He had demanded to talk to _Castiel_ of all people, much to everyone's surprise. They had spoken for hours about basically nothing, chattering happily about _bees_ of all things. 

Dean had told him that the kid had turned Castiel into an action-figure. What was with the sudden comradery? 

Bobby rubbed his thumb over the red crystal on War's ring, frowning slightly. Castiel had ditched the cereal for a rather heavy tome, but he wasn't reading it. He was tracing his long fingers over the spine, where six golden wings were engraved with beautiful intricacy. 

Then there was that.

Gabriel was very much dead.

He was much too dead to go around blowing any horns or heralding any Apocalypses now.

Even if he hadn't been dead, he didn't seem particularly enthusiastic about the Apocalypse. Bobby couldn't imagine the guy _'descending from the Heavens in a fury of thunderstorms and lightning'_ to announce a party he clearly didn't want to go to. 

All of these inconsistencies left Bobby extremely uncomfortable and flailing in the dark. The way everyone had made it out, everything was supposed to go according to a very delicate Plan, and so far, two of the six Pillars of the Plan had just been shattered to pieces.

He hadn't told any of the boys of his worries. Sam and Dean had enough on their plates, he could see that in the sag of their shoulders and the dark bruises under their eyes, full of a world-weariness that had no place in such young men. Castiel, however, he hadn't told because Bobby was pretty sure that the kid was hiding something. 

Bobby fixed his gaze on the kid, watching him closely as he placed the tome back in the shelf and snagged a piece of paper and a pencil, sketching the beginnings of what Bobby was sure would be a rather complicated set of wings.

Castiel was an Angel. He had grown up in Heaven, where they must have sung the plan in their songs, taught it to their younger brothers and sisters. Castiel should have been the first one to notice that there was something very wrong in the way the Apocalypse was shaping out to happen. There wasn't half the amount of predicted destruction, and it was literally two days before the final battle! 

Castiel loved the Winchesters, that much was true. He saw it in the way he looked at them, in his actions, how he trusted Dean with his life and more. Perhaps that love extended to Bobby, too. But he was certainly hiding something from them.

Bobby had to find out _what_.

Bobby had done his research. There was no lore about Castiel, no lore about the so-called 'Shield of God'. The Angel of Thursday was called _Sachiel_ , not Castiel.

Perhaps the kid had too much on his shoulders, and Bobby was being much too harsh on him. Maybe the lore didn't have much on him because he was a young Seraph, promoted only in the last century. 

But it never hurt to be sure.

Bobby straightened his shoulders, tilting his chin up to coax himself to bravery. If his suspicions were anywhere near the mark, he was about to question a rather volatile person.

Someone who could squish him with a wink. 

_Come on, you old man!_ the voice in his head chastised him gruffly, _This is for Sam and Dean._

"For Sam and Dean, " Bobby mumbled into his beard

Castiel turned his head to him, tilting his head in a confused, bird-like manner. "Forgive me Bobby, did you say something?"

Bobby locked eyes with the angel. His eyes were an otherworldly blue, almost glowing in the dim light of the tungsten bulb. 

"What are you the angel of, Cas?" he asked gruffly, keeping a close eye on him for cues and flinches. 

Castiel did not do anything out of the ordinary. He simply smiled softly and said, "I already told you, Bobby. I am the Angel of Thursday. My name means 'Shield of God'."

Bobby reached over for the beer. He uncorked it with his nails, tipping it back and taking a gulp. The liquid burned through his throat, emboldening him to say what he wanted to say next. 

"Who is Sachiel, then?" 

Castiel's eyes widened slightly. "Sachiel? There isn't any angel in heaven with that name. "

_Gotcha._

"You sure?" Bobby inquired, taking another sip of the beer. 

Castiel shuffled his feet, suddenly looking extremely small in his oversized trench coat and too-big dress shoes. He maintained eye contact with Bobby, though. "I am sure. Angels know the names of all their siblings. "

"Is that so? " Bobby asked, raising a single eyebrow. He reached over his desk to the chair for one his volumes on Angel History. Making of big show of turning the pages, he said, "Hmmm.... Let's see. There's Cabiel, Cadulech, Cael, Camuel, Cassiel, Caim, Calliel, Caluel..... But there ain't no Castiel here. "

Castiel's eyes had widened even more. "Bobby, Earthen lore is more often than not untrue, you are aware of that- "

Bobby glared at him. "Cut the crap, Cas. There ain't no Castiel, is there?"

Castiel laughed nervously, all-out fidgeting now, "Come on now, Bobby. Of course there's a Castiel! I am Castiel!" 

Kid had picked all of Dean's social cues. It made Bobby want to laugh, because it just made his life easier. 

"Yeah, right. And Crowley's an angel. "

Cas frowned. "No, Bobby. Crowley is a Demon. He isn't even a Fallen Angel. I believed that you were aware of this! "

Bobby gave him an unimpressed look. "It's a figure of speech, Cas. Point is, there ain't no 'Castiel' in Heaven, Earth or Hell, and your name ain't 'Castiel'. Who are you, really?"

The air was thick with tension. Castiel's nervousness was still visible in the shuffling of his feet, in the way he looked at everything but Bobby. 

Then, it shifted.

The air got heavier, thrumming with cackling electricity and sheer _energy_. Bobby jumped in his seat, looking at Castiel incredulously. 

The kid had the gal to look ashamed. 

"Cas, what- "

"You are right, Bobby, "Castiel mumbled, looking at his feet. "I am sorry for having to deceive you, but you must understand, it was absolutely necessary. I mean no harm to Sam and Dean. "

Bobby rushed back, pushing his chair to increase the distance between Castiel and himself, even though he knew that it was pointless. He pulled a gun out of his desk, aiming it at Castiel. His arm shook as he asked, "Who _are_ you? One of the Archangels? Michael?"

Castiel grinned. His eyes sparked with a hint of mischief, even though the regret was not completely gone. "No! Why would I want to be 'He Who is Like God' when I can be- "

It was in that second that Bobby realized. 

He could feel his eyes widen. He tried to run further away form Castiel, but he only ended up falling on his back for his efforts. Castiel stood still, arms raised in surrender. 

"OH MY GOD!"


	4. Chapter 4: Second Chance (I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean Winchester love each too much.  
> That may just save the world.

_"So, what's it all add up to? It's hard to say. But me, I'd say this was a test... for Sam and Dean. And I think they did all right. Up against good, evil, angels, devils, destiny, and God himself, they made their own choice. They chose family. And, well... isn't that kinda the whole point? No doubt – endings are hard. But then again... nothing ever really ends, does it? " - Chuck Shurley, Swan Song_

Chuck smiled at Castiel as he typed in capitals 'THE END'. 

"Did you really do that?" he asked, reaching for his cup of coffee and sipping from it, "Did you really test them?"

Castiel smiled. "I did. They passed, so I decided they don't need the pain. "

"And you hid all the while as Castiel?" Chuck asked, gazing serenely at the laptop screen. 

Castiel's smile faded momentarily. "No, actually. The last time I did it, Castiel was Me, but not Me at the same time. He was a sort-of reincarnation of Me. I signed a deal with the Empty for Lucifer's son, and when she reached out to take me, I remembered. "

Chuck blinked in confusion. "A reincarnation?"

Castiel sat down on Chuck's couch. "Yes. A God-like Being, my Brother, in fact, paraded himself around as God. He tricked me into reincarnation. We were battling him before I remembered who I was. I defeated him easily after that. Against the two of us, he had no chance. Amara delivered the Death Blow. Can't say I miss him. "

He glanced at Chuck, giving him a sly smile. "He even took your form. "

Chuck choked on his coffee. Tears burned in his eyes as he coughed. "Give me a warning before you give me earth-shattering info, please. Weak of Heart, here! "

Castiel smiled mischievously. "You are not weak of heart, Charles. You need not be so melodramatic. "

Chuck glared at him. "You know, until a few months ago, I was doing perfectly _fine_. Then you showed up like a wrecking ball."

Castiel chuckled, rising to his feet. He patted Chuck's shoulder and said, "It will all be over soon, Charles. I urge you to cease worrying so much. "

Chuck didn't say anything. He simply glared at his laptop. 

Castiel's eyes defocused, seeing something beyond Chuck's kitchen. 

"Lucifer possessed Sam?" Chuck asked.

Castiel merely nodded. "Dean will call you in a few seconds. "

Chuck's eyes widened. "Wait, what?!"

The phone began to ring. 

Chuck began to panic. "What do I say? What do I say?!"

"Act natural. "

"Not helping. "

Chuck pressed the 'ACCEPT' button. "Mistress Magda?" he choked out, cheeks flaming red. 

Behind him, Castiel chuckled. Chuck gave him a glare. 

"Umm... no, Chuck, " Dean's unimpressed voice sounded over the speaker.

Chuck felt like spontaneously combusting. Castiel looked as if he were about to say, "That is not advisable, Charles. "

Had he not been as powerful as he was, Chuck would have punched him in the face. 

"Oh, uh, Dean. Uh, wow. I, uh, I didn't know that you'd call. " 

"Who's Mistress Magda? "

Chuck glanced at Castiel. _Doesn't he have better things to think about?_

"He's Dean Winchester, " said Castiel, as if it explained everything. 

Maybe it kinda did. 

"Nothing. She's a, uh, a – just a, uh... a close friend."

Dean chuckled, but there was barely any amusement in it. "Yeah, I'll bet – real close. Whatever happened to Becky? "

 _When all this is done,_ Chuck thought furiously, hoping Castiel was listening, _I will punch you in the face_

Castiel chuckled, glancing at the wooden floor briefly. "You may have to 'Get in line', " he said, making air-quotes. 

Seriously? 

"Didn't work out. I had too much respect for her. "

"Boy, you really got a whole virgin/hooker thing going on, don't you?"

 _Couldn't he drop it already?_

Chuck stammered into the phone, "Okay, this can't be why you called. "

"Sam said yes."

"I know. I saw it. I'm just working on the pages. " He hadn't. Castiel had told him.

"Did you see where the title fight goes down? "

Chuck turned to Castiel, panicked. He hadn't seen anything about the location. Castiel simply mouthed something.

Skull Cemetery? 

Castiel's eyes widened and he shook his head. 

"The angels are keeping it top secret – very hush-hush, " Chuck said instead, waiting for Castiel to give him the right answer. 

_Stull Cemetery_ Castiel's voice whispered in his head. 

Dean's disappointment was palpable. Chuck didn't have to see him to know that his shoulders had just hunched. "Aw, crap. "

Chuck scrambled to make up lot ground. "But I saw it anyway, " he said quickly, "Perks of being a prophet. It's tomorrow, high noon – place called Stull Cemetery. "

"Stull Ceme-- Wait. I know that. That's – that's an old boneyard outside of Lawrence. Why Lawrence?"

Chuck glanced at Castiel, who shrugged. "It must be something about poetic endings, I suppose? Ending where it all started? Michael always loved symbolism. " At that, Castiel smiled fondly, his eyes getting that faraway look he always seemed to get when he remembered something nice.

"I don't know, " Chuck told Dean, "It all has to end where it started, I guess. "

"All right, Chuck." Dean took in a deep breath. "You know of any way to short-circuit this thing? "

 _Nothing you will need_ " Besides the rings? No. I'm sorry."

There was a short pause. "Well, do you have any idea what's gonna happen next?"

"He and his brother will get the 'happily ever after' they deserve, " Castiel whispered, eyes pooling in tears.

Chuck gave him a sad smile. "I wish that I did. But I-I just – I honestly don't know yet. "

"All right. Thanks, Chuck." With that, Dean disconnected. 

Chuck turned to Castiel. A single tear slipped out of Castiel's eyes.

"Let's do this, " he said before disappearing. 

"Good luck! " Chuck wished his empty room. 

The single breeze that came through a closed window, gently caressing his cheek, was answer enough. 

*

A powerful entity drifted over the Stull Cemetery, watching intently. 

A tall man with long brown hair stood by one of the graves, a long-stemmed rose in his hand. He was dressed in a sparkly white suit with a cream shirt, looking like the Young Prince he truly was. To any onlooker, he would look like Mary Winchester's grieving son. 

Of course, anyone who actually _knew_ Sam Winchester would know that this man, no matter how much he looked like Sam, was not Sam. So serene, so emotionless an expression had no place on Sam's face. Sam would never wear a suit if he had a choice not to. 

No. This was Lucifer, the Morningstar, the LightBringer, the Devil. 

Frozen in a moment of utter peace, breathing in the air his Father had made for his precious Humans, relishing the feeling of closeness with Him. 

The air was eerily still. Not a sound echoed through the cemetery. Even the sounds of civilization quietened out. The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for something to happen.

The grass shifted.

Lucifer turned his head.

A young blond stood a few metres from him, a small smile on his face. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of a black tuxedo, back ramrod straight as he tilted his chin up to face Lucifer. 

Lucifer smiled softly, eyes softening as he looked at his brother for the first time in countless millennia. "It's good to see you, Michael. " 

Michael smiled. "You too. It's been too long. Can you believe it's finally here?" It almost sounded as if they were talking about a reunion or something, not the end of the world. 

This time Lucifer turned entirely, body facing Michael. "No. Not really"

Michael took a small step forward. He stretched his arms out in an inviting gesture. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be. " Lucifer whispered. "A part of me wishes we didn't have to do this. " He bent down and placed the rose on Mary Winchester's grave.

The smile on Michael's face faded. It was replaced by a sort of tired indifference. "Yeah. Me too."

Still kneeling by the grave, Lucifer traced his fingertips along the engraving. He turned his head towards Michael once more, tilting his head slightly. "Then why are we?"

Michael frowned, obviously unhappy. He hunched his shoulders slightly. "Oh, you know why!" he snapped. "I have no choice, after what you did." 

Lucifer tilted his chin up. "What I did? What if it's not my fault?"

Overhead, the entity suppressed a gasp. _Lucifer had tried to reason with Michael? Had he tried to prevent the Apocalypse?_.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Michael seemed befuddled by the question altogether.

Lucifer spread his hands in invitation. His gaze turned contemplative and pleading. "Think about it. Dad made everything. Which means he made me who I am! God wanted the Devil!"

Michael froze. One could literally see the cogs turning in his head, hear the small voice at the back of his head whispering _Lucifer's theory has merit._

"So?" He asked in a small voice. He sounded so small, so terribly lost and confused, and of course, Lucifer sprang to exploit it.

"So why?" He raised his voice. It resonated through the field and through the dimensions, reverberating powerfully through the very corners of the world at frequencies of eldritch proportions. He knew it would resonate through Michael's being, Lucifer knew very well. It would remind him of the love they had once shared. It would, hopefully, make them brothers again. "And why make us fight? I just can't figure out the point."

Michael shivered. He still looked incredibly small in Adam Milligan's body, like a college kid who was baulking under the stress of examinations. "What's your point?"

Lucifer's eyes gleamed. "We're going to kill each other. And for what? One of Dad's tests. And we don't even know the answer. We're brothers. Let's just-" He waved his hands in a flippant manner. "-walk off the chessboard."

Michael's eyes widened. 

Before he could respond, however, the sky darkened. 

The entity cursed under its breath. _Of course Raphael couldn't deal with Michael ceding to Lucifer's words._

A massive lightning bolt lurched through the skies, shining a brilliant white-blue for a split second. Like a sling-shot, thunder echoed through the field, sending trees shaking and earthen tectonic plates shivering and shifting.

Michael straightened, all uncertainty and emotion erasing itself from his face. He arranged his features in a look of cool indifference, tilting his chin up for emphasis.

Lucifer, however, was a different story. His shoulders tensed as the thunder sounded, a look of annoyance flashing through his features. 

The light seemed to pool over the graveyard. After it grew to a considerable size, it struck the ground near Michael and Lucifer, searing a hole into the mud and charring the grass around it.

In the centre of the blast stood Raphael, standing as straight as a ramrod, smiling emotionlessly. He turned to Michael, "Brother. "

Michael nodded his head in greeting.

Then, he turned to Lucifer, "Brother. It is good to see you again. "

Lucifer smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. "Raphael. You haven't lost your flair for theatrics, I see. "

Raphael gave him a cold smile. "No, brother. "

He glanced at Michael, "Brother, the Host will be arriving in a few short minutes. They wish to witness the final battle, and perhaps protect a few humans while they do so. "

Lucifer glanced at Michael. Surely Michael wouldn't be alright with the Host watching them fight? But Michael didn't respond. He simply gave Raphael a small smile. "I look forward to it. "

"Brother, " Raphael was addressing Lucifer now. "I hope you do not mind. "

Lucifer very much did mind. If the Host decided to witness, there was no way he could sway Michael from starting the battle. But he said instead, "I do not mind. Michael, what have you thought of my offer?"

Raphael cocked his head to the side, furrowing his eyebrows. "Offer? What offer?"

Michael glanced at Raphael. "I'm sorry, " He whispered, "I-I can't do that. I'm a good son, and I have my orders. "

Raphael turned completely to face Michael, "What _offer_ , Michael?" 

Lucifer ignored him. "But you don't have to follow them."

Around them, the Angels began to descend, starting with the Higher orders. From the corner of his eye, Lucifer spotted Naomi landing by Raphael's side in a stern-faced Vessel, pant-suit as neat and orderly as ever.

The arrival of the Host seemed to strengthen Michael's resolve. All traces of doubt were swept clean off his face, replaced by a look of haughty pride. 

_Michael_ was no more. This was The Prince of Heaven, _The Flood_.

"What, you think I'm gonna rebel? Now?" Michael sneered, eyes turning hard and cold. "I'm not like you. "

The flashes of light indicating the arrivals of angels from all of Heaven's garrisons ceased. Thousands upon thousands of men, women and children stood around the stull cemetery in rows, eyes focused on the trio in the centre.

Lucifer tried one last time. "Please, Michael --"

" You know," Michael tilted his head in a mock contemplative manner, "You haven't changed a bit, little brother. Always blaming everybody but yourself," Michael snapped his head back down, glaring at Lucifer, eyes flashing brightly. 

"We were together, " he growled. This anger? This was no pretense, both Michael and Lucifer knew that. This was Michael's righteous anger, strengthened by years of loss and sadness. 

"We were happy," Michael's voice cracked. "But you betrayed me – all of us – and you made our father leave. _You killed Gabriel!_ "

"No one makes Dad do anything! " Lucifer shouted, begging Michael to _please, understand!_ "He is doing this to us! Gabriel died because He wanted it!"

Michael's eyes watered. For a moment, Lucifer caught a glimpse of his true form. Millions upon millions of beings ducked their heads, countless eyes pooling in celestial light tears. "You're a monster, Lucifer. And I have to kill you."

There was nothing to be done here, then. 

Lucifer shook his head. "If that's the way it's got to be..." He smiled at Michael coldly. "Then I'd like to see you try."

The tears in Michael's eyes disappeared, replaced by stony calm. He jumped to a fighting stance, circling around Lucifer with predatorily magnificent grace. Lucifer took a small step to the side, his arms turned outwards, ready to summon his blade at the blink of an eye.

Raphael moved out of their way, signaling for the Host to do so too. They spread out throughout the graveyard, keeping a firm 100 metre-gap between themselves and the Brothers.

Suddenly, a sound echoed through the silence.

A tonal fluttering sound, the sound of an engine's almighty roar. 

Heads turned towards the road, where a sleek black 1967 Chevy Impala rode into view. It glimmered in the bright light of the morning sun, tires moving slowly in show of elegance and beauty, a true muscle car. It drove into the Cemetery and paused by the charred grass, where Raphael had been standing a few moments ago. 

A song began to play. Def Leppard's voice resounded through the field, his guitar striking notes fervently. _"Gunter, glieben, glauchen, globen! All right! I got something to say! Hey it's better to burn out! Yeah! Than fade awa-a-a-y all right oh! Gonna start a fire!"_

Dean Winchester stepped out of the car, golden hair glimmering in the sun. He shut the door and turned to Michael and Lucifer, plump lips curving upwards in a deceptively easy smile. "Howdy, boys!" He greeted. 

_"We're gonna burn this damn place down! Ooh, ooh! Down to the ground! "_

He grinned cheekily. "Sorry. Am I interrupting something?"

*

A few miles away, Castiel smirked. Bobby threw him an unimpressed look. "Mind sharing it with the class, Mister?"

Castiel threw a gleeful smile in Bobby's direction. "Oh, it's nothing. Dean just reached Michael and Lucifer. "

Bobby's eyes widened. "What's so funny about that?"

Castiel grinned mischievously. "You'll see. Let no one say that I don't have a good sense of humour. "

*

Back at the Cemetery, Michael and Lucifer, in a rare show of comradery, glanced at Dean and then at each other incredulously. Michael blinked, clearly asking, _What in Father's name is wrong with this human?_

Raphael materialized next to Michael and Lucifer. The skies darkened to reflect his anger. Glaring at Dean, he thundered, "Begone, insolent mortal, You have no place amongst us. " 

Dean grinned. "Wasn't talking to you, mutant turtle. "

Lucifer simply smirked, turning to see Raphael's reaction.

The skies darkened even further as Raphael's eye began to glow with Holy Light, shadows of his colossal wings manifesting in a show of Righteous Rage. He raised his hand towards Dean. 

"I think not!" A new voice shouted gleefully.

Raphael faltered. 

In that split second, the scene changed.

It was still the same cemetery, with it's dry grass and barren trees. But now, streamers stretched from one tree to another, party lights blinking green, red and blue at unimaginable speeds. Right over stretched a long banner which read _"Sunday Dinner with the Devil, The Flood, A Teenage Ninja Mutant Turtle and The TRICKSTERRR! Ft Mikey, Luci, Raph and Gabe!"_

Dean was the one first one to react. "What the- "

"Ah, ah, ah!" The voice chirped gleefully from behind Dean, "No cursing in front of Angels, Dean-O! Didn't Cassie teach you that?"

Everyone turned towards the Impala.

Atop the Impala, in all his golden glory, stood Gabriel, dressed in the loudest suit known to man. He popped a lollipop into his mouth, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Hello!"

They stared at him, slack-jawed. Even Angel-radio went deathly silent. 

Gabriel gave them a mock-frown, even as his eyes glinted with pure, unadulterated mirth. "Aw, come on! I'm back, y'all. Show me some teeth, hmm? Aren't I a sight for sore eyes? "

This seemed to bring Dean back to reality. He shut his gaping mouth and scoffed drily. "Who brought you back? Daddy dearest?"

Michael flinched. The Heavenly Host was enraged. Thunder sounded through the skies as eyes began to glow with hidden power, static crackled through the air.

" **BLASPHEMY!** " the angels cried out. " **HE DARES TAKE OUR FATHER'S NAME IN VAIN!"**

For once, however, the Archangels did not speak. They watched Gabriel intently, awaiting his answer. 

Gabriel was all smiles. "Spot on, Dean-O! I don't know why everyone thinks Sam-a-Lam is the cleverer one, because honestly, you seem good too!"

Dean grinned, "Don't let Sammy hear you say that. He may just kill me. "

Gabriel placed a fist over his heart. "Scout's Honour!"

Michael interrupted. He held his arm out in front of Raphael and Lucifer, effectively keeping them away from Gabriel and Dean.

"Is it true, Gabriel? Did Father really resurrect you?" _Is he back?_ , was the unspoken question behind it. 

Gabriel pointed his lollipop at him. "Right you are! He did!"

When he gave no more explanation, Dean prompted him, "So you are here to- "

"Watch the show!" Gabriel exclaimed, unwrapping a candy noisily. "It's the Big A, Dean-O. These boys, " he waved his hand flippantly over Michael and Lucifer, "they ain't gonna stop. Maybe I'll keep you and your precious Bobby Singer safe, if I feel like it. "

The mirth vanished from Dean eyes and Righteous anger took its place. He scowled. "So you're just gonna let the world burn? What happened to stopping the Apocalypse?"

Gabriel was still smirking. "Won't work, Dean. I'm just gonna sit back and watch the show. I've even got front row tickets!"

As if to emphasize his point, Gabriel snapped his fingers. A popcorn box materialized in his hand. He extended it towards them, "Want one?"

Dean growled in frustration. He sent Castiel a short prayer, _Hey Cas, Gabriel's here. Apparently the Big G resurrected him. He has no interest in helping, though. Just wants to watch the show. Get two Molotovs, we'll need one for Raphael too. I don't know what we'll do about the rest of the Host, though._

He turned towards Lucifer. "Hey. We need to talk."

For the first time in quite a while, Lucifer spoke. "Even for you, this is a whole new mountain of stupid, " he looked down upon Dean, smiling condescendingly at the pathetic human. 

"I'm not talking to you, " said Dean, "I'm talking to Sam. "

Michael intervened, " You're no longer the vessel, Dean. You got no right to be here."

Dean glanced at him. For a moment, his eyes turned terribly sorrowful, full of regret and guilt. "Adam, if you're in there somewhere, I am so sorry."

"Adam isn't home right now. "

"Well," Dean rolled his shoulders, cracking some sore joints. "Then you're next on my list, buttercup. But right now, I need five minutes with him. "

"You little maggot, " growled Raphael, "You are no longer a part of this story! "

Suddenly, Castiel's voice echoed throughout the field. "HEY ASS-BUTT!"

Three surprised Archangels whirled on him.

Castiel on Bobby next to Mary Winchester's grave. In his hands, Castiel held two bottles in his hands, at the mouths of which flickered brilliant yellow-white flames. The orange and the yellow light coalesced to form white at the centre, fluttering slightly in the breeze left behind by Castiel's arrival. 

The second they turned, Castiel launched the bottles towards Michael and Raphael. 

Their screams echoed throughout the plain as they went up in flames. Gabriel simply popped in another popcorn, as if everything that was happening was just a movie.

The Heavenly Host, meanwhile, rushed forward. The Choir screeched out in agony as angel blades were drawn, aimed at Castiel. 

Castiel, for his par, simply tilted his chin up and faced the Devil without faltering.

Gabriel's voice echoed throughout Angel-radio for the first time in countless millenia. " **STAND BACK. THIS IS A MATTER FOR THE ARCHANGELS. OUR BROTHERS WILL RETURN. YOUR ORDERS ARE TO WITNESS, NOT INTERVENE.** "

The Host hesitated.

Dean glanced at Castiel. "Ass-butt?"

Castiel gave him an exasperated look. "They'll be back – and upset – but you got your five minutes." 

Lucifer whirled on Castiel, his face contorted in rage. "Castiel, "he growled, "Did you just Molotov my brother with holy fire? "

Castiel smiled nervously and stammered, "What? No!"

Dean's eyes widened. "Cas get outta here!" 

Lucifer brought his fingers up to his temple. "No one dicks with Michael, " he said, "but me."

He snapped.

Castiel erupted in a mess of blood and chunks of meat. 

Dean let out a choked, "Cas!" before turning to Lucifer. 

"Sammy, can you hear me?" he asked, grabbing ahold of Lucifer's collar.

"You know... " Lucifer snarled, "I tried to be nice- for Sammy's sake. But you" He shook Dean off roughly and grabbed hold of his collar, hefting him up a few inches off the ground. "are such a pain... in my ass. "

He whirled and threw Dean on the windshield of the Impala. Gabriel squeaked, disappearing and reappearing on the branch of a tree, grumbling about _stupid brothers and their disregard for comfort_.

Bobby aimed at Lucifer and fired.

The bullet embedded itself in his back, but Lucifer was unbothered by it. He didn't even turn to look. He just reached out and made a twisting motion with his fingers. A sickening crunch sounded as Bobby fell to the ground, his neck twisted in an unnatural angle. 

"NO!"

"Yes, " Lucifer said calmly. His eyes twinkled, lips tilting upwards in gleeful vindictiveness. 

He grabbed Dean's legs and threw him on the ground. Grabbing hold of Dean's collars, he punched his face, hard. Dean fell back against the Impala, spitting blood onto the charred grass. 

"Sammy?" Dean whispered through swollen lips, "Are you in there?"

Lucifer sneered. "Oh, he's in here, all right." He punched Dean once more. "And he's gonna feel the snap of your bones. " Dean fell to the ground as he received another hard punch. "Every single one." Lucifer hauled Dean to his feet, grinning viciously. "We're gonna take our time." Punching Dean once more, Lucifer kicked his shin, which gave out under him. 

Dean looked up at Sam, his face swollen and bleeding. There was an alarming number of cuts on his face, and his bruises had already started purpling a bit. His face was so swollen that it was twisted beyond recognition. The fact that he was still conscious was shocking. 

"Sam, it's okay." Dean whispered through a haze of pain. He could not see Lucifer. All he could see was a bright, smiling, floppy-haired boy, with eyes that shone with countless colours whenever the sun struck against them. The little boy giggled as he reached out to gab Dean's collar, still much to short to reach his neck. "It's okay. I'm here. I'm here. I'm not gonna leave you. " As Lucifer punched his face twice more, Dean watched in silent awe as his seven-year old brother, who was missing three teeth, reached out and hugged him as he thanked him for giving the last of the lucky charms, "I'm not gonna leave you. " Multi-coloured eyes looked at him, eyes full of trust and awe and devotion as he clutched the bundle of blankets that contained his brother, no, _his soul,_ in his arms, covering the baby with his own body so that the smoke would not choke him. "Not now. Never again.

Overhead, the entity had had enough.

It stepped in. 

Sunlight glinted off the roof of the Impala, catching Lucifer's eye. He saw himself in Sam's body in the Impala's mirror, and by the mirror, in a dirty ashtray, he saw a little green army man. 

Countless memories flashed in his mind.

Dean, golden-haired and bright-eyed, stuffing Legos in the Impala's vent.

Dean, giving him a chubby smile as he carved his initials next to Sam's. 

Dean, giving him the last of the lucky charms with a long-suffering sigh.

Dean, teaching Sam how to talk to girls.

Dean, tall and handsome in his teenage, waving at Sam as he passed him in the hallway of their latest school.

Dean, a handsome man now, looking frantically between Sam and John as they argued.

Dean, watching him with tears in his eyes as Sam grabbed the duffle and shut the door behind him.

Dean, giving him a cavalier grin as he taunted Sam in his and Jess' apartment.

Dean, grabbing his elbow to ground him as they stood by Jessica's grave.

Dean, cold and shivering, following Sam into the Faith Healer's tent. 

Dean, taking out his pearl-handled Colt from the Impala's glove box.

Dean, saying "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole, " as he waved a mixtape in Sam's face.

Dean, lying cold and still in the hospital bed after the car crash.

Dean, grinning triumphantly as he shot Azazel. 

Dean, telling him how Bon Jovi rocks (on occasion).

Dean, screeching in pain as Sam popped his elbow back in its spot.

Dean, toasting to a good hunt with Sam and Bobby.

Dean, sticking a plastic spoon in Sam's mouth.

Dean, manning the flashlight during his Yellow Fever.

Dean, grumbling about Cas' disregard for personal space. 

Dean, stargazing.

Dean, latching onto Sam's numerous over shirts as he pushed himself and Sam upright.

Dean, crying over his time in Hell.

Dean, jamming to Gabriel's Heat of the Moment. 

Dean, begging Sam to stay alive, telling him how he'd keep him alive, because that was his job, to save his baby brother.

Dean, singing 'Dead or Alive' at the top of his voice.

Dean, looking so distraught as he told him that John had asked him to either save Sam or kill him.

Dean, teaching Cas the intricacies of a good pie. 

Dean, hugging Sam.

Dean, smiling at him as the sunlight glinted off his eyes. "Hey Sammy."

Dean.

_Dean._

Sam reached out, stretching his arms out towards the light, towards _Dean_ , the ever-present source of comfort, his mom, his dad, his brother, his best friend, essentially his _everything_. Sam was no longer a hulking giant with daddy issues and a brain too big for his head and a heart too big for his chest.

He was Sammy, Dean's baby brother, the ship to Dean's lighthouse, the moon to Dean's sun. 

Lucifer blazed within Sam, tearing through his soul, trying to wrest back lost control. Lucifer's cold light ripped through every fibre of his being, shoving and pushing against the wall of Sam's memories, roaring to be LET OUT!

Dean smiled at him. "I've got you, Sammy. You've been so brave, I am so proud of you. "

Sam reached forward to latch onto Dean, to hold him and never let go. Dean would keep him safe, Dean would take him away from Lucifer and the sheer pain that came with hosting him. 

But as he tried to reach forward, Dean flickered, appearing further away from Sam.

Sam sobbed. "D'n!"

Dean smiled serenely. "You're almost there, Sammy. "

Around Sam, his soul glowed with gentle golden light, flickering erratically as Lucifer tore through it.

Sam knew what he had to do. He looked up at Dean with bright eyes.

"I love you, Sammy. "

"I love you too, Dean. "

Sam _pushed_

He pushed his soul outwards, against Lucifer, taking control of his extremities and shoving Lucifer down. Unfiltered energy tore through him as he did so, but Sam only had one goal in mind. 

Dean. 

Cool air filtered into Sam's hot lungs, clearing his vision. He felt the gentle warmth of the sun on his skin, the smooth fabric of the suit shifting as he hunched ever so slightly. A strong breeze came by and caressed his skin.

He glanced down. Dean looked up at him with swollen, yet hopeful eyes. "Sammy?"

Sam almost sobbed at the sound.

Dean looked so sad, yet so hopeful that Sam wanted to wrap him in his arms and never let go. Sam wanted to be Dean's big brother for once, to make sure Dean never had any nightmares ever again, that Dean stayed safe, that Dean got be to happy, forever. "It's okay, Dean. It's gonna be okay. I've got him."

Lucifer struggled and screeched, trying to assume his true form, to expand to eldritch proportions, to do something, _anything_ , to wrest back control. In doing so, he ignited Sam's blood on fire, froze his sinuses to ice and turned his alveoli to vapour, but Sam persisted against him. He had to do this.

For Dean.

He reached for the rings and threw them to the ground. "Bvtmon tabges babalon."

The round split open under their feet.

The Cage opened.

A gaping black hole of vacuum and hopelessness, the Cage roared as it opened, itching for Lucifer's return. 

Inside him, Lucifer screamed.

Sam glanced at Dean and then at the sun. He shut his eyes as a soft breeze flit past him. This was the last time he'd ever see the sun and feel the wind.

The last time he'd ever see Dean.

The air shifted as two twelve pairs of wings frantically scrambled towards him.

Michael and Raphael had returned. 

"Sam!" Michael shouted, drawing his sword. It caught the sun's light as he swirled it, leaving behind a trail of fire and warmth. "It's not gonna end this way! Step back! "

Sam growled as Lucifer ripped the tendons in his arms. "You're gonna have to make me!"

He step closer to the Cage.

The pull increased. His feet began to lose their hold on the ground. The Cage began to sing a haunted melody, enticingly slow, ethereally beautiful. 

Sam shut his eyes and breathed in the clear air. 

Dean stood in the darkness between his eyelids and his eyes, eyes bright and warm. He reached out. "I am so proud of you, Sammy. I am so proud. "

Sam cried out, "Dean! "

Dean chuckled. "You are my most prized creation, Samuel Winchester. You may stop fighting now, I will protect you. "

 _Prized creation?_

Dean reached out, "Come with me, Sam. I'm taking you and your brother home. "

Sam tumbled into Dean's arms as the world melted around him. 

*


End file.
